


Finding Oregon

by chick_with_wifi



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, neurodivergent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 03:43:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9698072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chick_with_wifi/pseuds/chick_with_wifi
Summary: Growing up in Texas was difficult for Root, but there were a few things that made it bearable. And a few things that didn't.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everybody. I've seen a few stories about young!Shaw and how she dealt with being 'different' and learned about her pd etc., so I wanted to write one for Root. This is it.
> 
> There are also content warnings for Root going by Sam for the first few sections, bullying and general angst.

In the background, the teacher droned on and on about the correct usage of commas and Sam tried to listen, she really did. But the things happening inside her head were much louder than the things happening out there, which sometimes made it hard to concentrate.

She stared up at the metal lampshade hanging from the ceiling on a wire covered with black plastic insulation. Sam knew how wires had to be covered with insulating material that can't conduct electricity so people can touch the wire without getting electrocuted. She also knew that the lightbulb hurt her eyes if she looked at it for too long and made her have weird black spots infront of her eyes that only went away if she blinked really fast.

On really windy days when the windows rattled in their frames, the light on the ceiling would swing from side to side. That made it hard to read and write because it was sometimes light and sometimes dark, so Sam’s pupils had to expand and contract quickly so her eyes could focus.

That day wasn't windy because it was spring. Sam looked at the light again and noticed a dead fly on the lampshade. She wondered how long it had been there, which got her wondering how long the light had been there because her train of thought always moved very quickly and she constantly craved new information. Sometimes her brain moved so quickly the people she was talking to got lost, so she tried to avoid speaking to people when possible. If the light fixture was very old then it might be unsafe. Oh no, what if it fell down! She was right beneath it, it could fall and squash her like a tomato.

That thought made Sam afraid, so she looked down at the desk instead. It was made of wood and had a dent in it where she had once drilled her pencil into it. Her mom once told her that touching wood stopped you from jinxing things. Maybe she had jinxed the light by thinking it might fall, so she had better touch the desk, to keep safe. She placed her right hand flat on the desk, so her entire palm was in contact with it, then did the same with her left hand. There, she had undone the jinx. As long as she didn't look at the light for the rest of the lesson she would be fine.

Mr Pym was still teaching his lesson as if nothing had happened, meanwhile Sam was reeling from a near-death experience. Which was fine by her, she didn't like Mr Pym anyway. He sometimes accused her of having dirty clothes or old shoes, as if that was something she could deal with. At times she considered stealing clothes just to shut him up, but her mom said stealing was wrong and she mustn't do it. Samn resolved to ask again, in case bringing a teacher into the equation changed the outcome.

Finally, Mr Pym put down his chalk and the bell rang to dismiss them for the end of the day. The class erupted into chair scrapings and shoutings and running and whooping.

They reminded Sam of the apes she had read about in the library. The way they lived in packs, groomed each other and played together. And that they were capable of, at best, menial tasks after being shown what to do. Sam knew she was different. She didn't know how, but she was.

All the students waited by the door then stampeded out when Mr Pym opened it and followed them out of the room, presumably going to the staffroom. Not that Sam had once followed him there or anything.

Everybody left except Maura and Sam. Maura sat two rows in front of Sam and wasn't very smart, Sam thought she might be jealous of her. But she was obviously smart enough to know that she could get Sam alone in the classroom if she stayed behind after school, which was more than Sam would have given her credit for. Maybe she’d had help.

“Freak,” Maura hissed, using the class’s latest ‘creative’ nickname for Sam.

“Maura,” Sam replied calmly.

In anger, Maura grabbed a pair of scissors out of the stationary pot on the desk and quickly chopped off a lock of Sam’s hair. Then she threw down the scissors, turned on her heel and flounced out of the room.

Sam stood dumbstruck for a second, then walked over to the metal trash can in the corner and squatted down to look at her reflection. Her straight, blonde hair was collarbone-length, apart from a lock about an inch wide above her left shoulder that only came down to her jaw. It looked stupid like that.

Sam retrieved the scissors then knelt by the trash can and carefully cut the rest of her hair so it was all the same length, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth in concentration. Then she gathered up all the hair on the floor and put it in the trash can, brushing off her hands. Once she put the scissors back it looked like nothing had ever happened. Except her hair was lighter and fell into her face when she turned her head.

Since she was never in a hurry to get home, Sam wasted a few more minutes looking at a display on the classroom wall. Then she went out into the yard where boys were kicking a muddy football and girls were playing ring around the roses. Sam kept her head held high and made direct eye contact with Maura, who paused mid-skip to stare at her. “Thank you,” Sam said. “I like my hair better now.”

-

“It's called the Oregon Trail,” Hanna explained as she typed on the computer in the library. She and Sam went there almost every night and Hanna had recently taken to playing games on the PCs. “You have supplies and stuff, and you have to get to Oregon without dying.”

Sam looked unconvinced. “Seems kinda dumb.”

“Take that back! It’s awesome.”

Sam shrugged and leant her hip against the desk, facing Hanna. “If you say so.”

Hanna continued to play, but her hands were shaking and every now and then she would glance nervously at the corner of the room where a couple of people were sat reading.

“Are you alright?” asked Sam.

Hanna nodded. “Yeah. It's just, Cody Grayson followed me home again last night. He’s such a creep.” She hit the spacebar with more force than was necessary.

“If you want I can prove he was under the influence of narcotics and get him arrested?” Sam offered, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve.

Hanna’s fingers froze on the keyboard and she looked up at Sam with furrowed brows. “That’s...not how people deal with this sort of thing, Sam.”

She had messed up, abort abort. Sam felt part of her brain go into shutdown and suddenly she was watching herself interact with Hanna from some obscure fourth dimension, still tethered to her body but lacking the ability to pull herself back into it. “Yeah I know,” Sam lied. “I just wanted to help.”

Hanna put one of her hands over Sam’s. “And I appreciate it, but don't go breaking any laws on my account, okay?”

“Okay,” Sam said because that is what you are meant to say when somebody gives you advice and her brain still felt woolly so she couldn't think of a better response. “Thank you Hanna.”

-

A year later Root was sitting at that very same table in the library and playing the Oregon Trail. She still thought it was dumb, these menial people whose lives were so dull that they resorted to playing out a different one in a virtual world, but it was a way to pass the hours and she was fairly good at it. But, unlike these cretin, when she wanted excitement she preferred something a little more real. Like stealing a lot of money from some drug dealers and framing Trent Russell for it.

When her mom told her to follow her talents that probably wasn't what she meant, but Root had learned a lot from working on the wrong side of the law. And it payed an awful lot better, so she was contemplating a career in it. Since the law’s an urban legend anyway, she thought as she eyed Barb across the library.

Playing the game made her feel closer to Hanna. So much so that sometimes she thought she could hear Hanna browsing the shelves behind her and would turn round only to see empty space. Every single goddamn time it was like a punch in the gut.

When her score came up at the end, she was first on the leaderboard with at least double the next person’s score. Root got a little kick out of it, since her motto was she was either the best in the business (or soon would be) or she wasn't in it at all. And since her score was there for all to see - not that anybody knew of was her - then she obviously had to be the best.

And ‘ROOT’ was the best. When asked to type her name in, she’d thought about using ‘Alice Kinnian’ as one last homage to Hanna and middle-finger-up to Barb, but ultimately decided not to. She could think of ways to achieve both her aims that had nothing to do with that stupid game.

And her mom didn't have much time left, so she would soon be getting out of that hell hole for good.

-

Driving twenty over the speed limit with several hundred thousand in her bank account, a fake name on her ID and a copy of Flowers for Algernon waiting to be mailed to a certain address, an expensive laptop and an unused gun in her glove compartment, Root passed the ‘welcome to Oregon’ sign and thought: we made it Hanna. We finally made it.


End file.
